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Jim Hollock's first book, a true-crime tale set in Pennsylvania, got strong reviews and decent sales when it appeared in 2011. Now "Born to Lose" is losing momentum—yet Amazon, to the writer's intense frustration, has increased the price by nearly a third.
"At this point, people need an inducement," said Mr. Hollock, a retired corrections official. "But instead of lowering the price, Amazon is raising it."
Other writers and publishers have the same complaint. They say Amazon, which became the biggest force in bookselling by discounting so heavily it often lost money, has been cutting back its deals for scholarly and small-press books. That creates the uneasy prospect of a two-tier system where some books are priced beyond an audience's reach.
It is difficult to comprehensively track the movement of prices on Amazon, so the evidence is anecdotal and fragmentary. But books are one of the few consumer items that still have a price printed on them. Any Amazon customer who uses the retailer's "Saved for Later" basket has noticed its prices have all the permanence of plane fares. No explanation is ever given for why a price has changed.
Bruce Joshua Miller, president of Miller Trade Book Marketing, a Chicago firm representing university and independent presses, said he recently surveyed 18 publishers. "Fourteen responded and said that Amazon had over the last few years either lowered discounts on scholarly books or, in the case of older or slow-selling titles, completely eliminated them," he said.
When the University of Nebraska Press brought out a bibliography of the novelist Jim Harrison four years ago, Amazon charged $43.87. The price this week: $59.87.
Rob Buchanan, a sales coordinator for the press, said the $65 list price of the book had not changed, nor had the price the publisher billed Amazon. "I can't think of a reason on our end why they'd be charging more."
Amazon says it is not belatedly trying to improve its anemic profit margins.
"We are actually lowering prices," said Sarah Gelman, an Amazon spokeswoman. "We pay for these price decreases with relentless focus on improving our execution—and this commitment to low prices is one of the reasons our print books business continues to grow."
Offered a list of random titles whose discounts had dropped, she said she would not talk about specific books. They included David Foster Wallace's essay on John McCain, which went from 20 percent off to 10 percent. Ellen Galinsky's "Mind in the Making" went from 32 percent off to 24 percent. Jim Harrison's "Songs of Unreason" dropped from 32 percent off to 16 percent.
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Higher prices have implications beyond annoyed authors. For all the hoopla around e-books, old-fashioned printed volumes are still a bigger business. Amazon sells about one in four printed books, according to industry estimates, a level of market domination with little precedent in the book trade.
It is an achievement built on superior customer service, a vast range of titles and, most of all, rock-bottom prices that no physical store could hope to match. Even as Amazon became one of the largest retailers in the country, it never seemed interested in charging enough to make a profit. Customers celebrated and the competition languished.
Now, with Borders dead, Barnes & Noble struggling and independent booksellers greatly diminished, for many consumers there is simply no other way to get many books than through Amazon. And for some books, Amazon is, in effect, beginning to raise prices.
Stephen Blake Mettee, chairman of the board of the Independent Book Publishers Association, said that Amazon was simply following in the tradition of any large company that gains control of a market. "You lower your prices until the competition is out of the picture, and then you raise your prices and get your money back," he said.
Authors like Mr. Hollock say they feel helpless about Amazon's control over their fate. Mr. Hollock says he has called Amazon several times to ask why the price of his book was going up, and never received an answer that made sense.
"Amazon is doing something vitally important for book culture by making books readily available in places they might not otherwise exist," said Ted Striphas, an associate professor at Indiana University Bloomington. "But culture is best when it is robust and decentralized, not when there is a single authority that controls the bulk of every transaction."
When Mr. Striphas's book, "The Late Age of Print: Everyday Book Culture from Consumerism to Control," first appeared in paperback in 2011, Amazon sold it for $17.50, the author said. Now it is $19.
"There's not much competition to sell my book," Mr. Striphas said. "The conspiracy theorist would say Amazon understands this."
Of course, many books on Amazon are still significantly discounted, especially popular titles where it has some competition. But even books by Nobel Prize winners are now being sold at prices that minimally diverge from the bookstores that were driven out of business in the last decade. Par Lagerkvist's "The Dwarf" is 5 percent off, while Halldor Laxness's "Fish Can Sing" is 10 percent off.
Amazon's experimentation with its pricing comes against a backdrop of tumult in bookselling and publishing. The Justice Department sued Apple and major publishers, accusing them of conspiring to raise the prices of e-books as a defense against Amazon. The publishers were worried that Amazon was setting an artificially low price to gain control of the e-book market. (The publishers settled without admitting guilt. Apple went to trial and is awaiting a verdict.)
(Read More: Buying a Picasso on Amazon? Not So Crazy Anymore)
In its 16 years as a public company, Amazon has received unique permission from Wall Street to concentrate on expanding its infrastructure, increasing revenue at the expense of profit. Stockholders have pushed Amazon shares up to a record level, even though the company makes only pocket change. Profits were always promised tomorrow.
Small publishers wonder if tomorrow is finally here, and they are the ones who will pay for it.
One small nonfiction publisher, which requested confidentiality because Amazon is a crucial account, said the retailer sold its books at a discount ranging from 25 to 35 percent for years. Then, despite steady sales, the discounts began to shrink. Their most popular book this week was 16 percent off.
For this publisher, that means less revenue and less profit as some buyers reject the more expensive books. It is a disappointing turn of events, particularly when he recalls the excitement that Amazon initially generated among independent presses. "Amazon enabled our buyers to find us, before any wholesaler would talk to us," he said. "Their slogan was about 'leveling the playing field for small publishers' and they did."
Curt Matthews, chief executive of the Independent Publishers Group, a Chicago book distributor that got in a dispute with Amazon last year over margins on e-books, speculated that Amazon could be data-mining its customers.
"They are wondering, 'If we knock off only 10 percent as opposed to 35 percent, where do we come out ahead?' " Mr. Matthews said. "They don't care how many books they sell. They want to know how many dollars they get."
For Mr. Hollock, the "Born to Lose" author, the issue is readers, not dollars. His award-winning book, published by Kent State University Press, had a steep list price of $35 to begin with. In the author's view, Amazon is simply compounding the trouble by raising its price to more than $30 from $23.
"I see all these other books out there that are cheaper," Mr. Hollock said. "I thought, 'Man alive, I don't know how I'm going to compete.' "
—By David Streitfeld, The New York Times.


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by Bill Strickland
It happens not often but sometimes—or maybe only rarely—but it happens enough that we know it is a real byproduct of cycling: Great beauty emerges at the bleakest part of a bike ride.
A wrong turn on a hopeless day leads to a road with perfect kinetic reciprocity and you find yourself drawn effortlessly over the undulations of the earth. Dropped from the pack and chasing, you ride yourself so empty your body of necessity must fill itself or implode, and what rushes into the vacuum you created is velocity and willpower of a strain you never possessed before. In desperation, far from civilization someone successfully fixes a popped chain with the conical spring from a quick-release skewer and a silk worm.
One day in a cold and long lightning-lit deluge I was climbing a road out in the Oley Valley when somewhere above me a stream must have overrun its banks, and I began losing a struggle to pedal not only against the grade but a raging current. Then silver fish began wriggling past me, their flashing descent so strange, so beautiful, so cycling.
We're not guaranteed the beauty, of course. Just the chance for it. This season, we all got one we really needed.
In the midst of the Landis-Lance blowdown, the Giro d'Italia sang out with a barbaric yawp of suffering—and renewal. I hope you watched it. If you didn't, you ought to YouTube at least the strada bianca stage (which featured the "white roads" of gravel and dirt that, raced on a rain-soaked day, turned the pack black instead) and the Mortirolo stage (which was torn apart by eventual winner Ivan Basso and his teammate Vincenzo Nibali, though the highlight might have been David Arroyo's mesmerizing descent on technical wet roads in an ultimately failed defense of the pink jersey).
No matter how many times I had to talk about doping, I could turn to the Giro and end up doing the thing where you cry out at the computer streaming the video, and the thing where as soon as the race ends you find a friend to talk about it with, and all both of you do is essentially recount what you both just watched—but somehow it increases your happiness.
There was a lot of this going around. I think we needed it. I know I did.
Zac Daab, who founded Seattle's Cascade Bicycle Studio, ended up going so nuts that he got together with Rob Vandermark, who besides epitomizing Seven Cycles also runs Ride.Studio.Cafe in Lexington, Massachusetts, to design a bike commemorating this year's Giro. It's a ridiculous, over-the-top project born of sheer exuberance. It's a folly. And its existence gives me great hope that cycling will always, in the best possible sense instead of the worst, make almost no sense.
Like I said, there's a lot of this going around, and to keep it going—maybe because we need to keep it going in whatever ways we can—Zac and Rob want to give away a limited edition, Giro-themed, pink-and-black Lazer Helium helmet. Post a comment here about great beauty, about exuberance, about the Giro, about fish swimming down the road while you climb—whatever. They'll decide who gets the helmet. If you win it, be sure to wear it especially when the forecast is bleak.
I was a flat-lander riding Mt. Washington. Completely underestimating what I had set out to do, I now longed for the rides into 20 mph winds on my home circuit. Up until now, my Mt. Washington had been like the overpass over I80-94, but I was thrilled and overwhelmed I was witness to it. Dirt road sections, leg breaking grades. It was a good hurt.
Watching this year's Giro brought back those same feelings. Three cheers for Angelo Zomegnan for a Giro route that ignited what's best about the sport I love. It was everything we love as fans: inspirational performances, protagonists and antagonists, suffering and pageantry.
The recorded Plan de Corones stage 16 is ready for me to view as I ride the trainer this winter in hopes of doing my best at my next Mt. Washington.
There is great beauty in cycling. It comes in many forms. Infact it changed my life. I met my girlfriend on a ride. Her hair in pig tails and looking like a great mysterious beauty, I had to talk to her. It is with her I have found the greatest exuberance in riding. She helped me discover that all types of cycling are worthy of my praise, not just my first cycling love: the mountain bike. So when i ride at night home from work and i see the full moon shining down on the Cape Fear River, I think of how lucky I am. I am lucky to be riding a bike and enjoying the world. But more so, i am lucky to be enjoying it with someone I love. I mean when you complain about the Giro and ATOC being over and and your girlfriend just says, well we just need to ride more till its time for the Tour de France…you know you've found the right one.
This is my beauty. Not the ride…but the one who accompanies me on it.
[...] Grazie | Sitting In bicycling.com/blogs/sittingin/2010/06/01/grazie/ – view page – cached by Bill Strickland It happens not often but sometimes—or maybe only rarely—but it happens enough that we know it is a real byproduct of cycling: Tweets about this link Topsy.Data.Twitter.User['bicyclingmag'] = {"photo":"http://a3.twimg.com/profile_images/391211971/Octcover_normal.jpg","url":"http://twitter.com/bicyclingmag","nick":"bicyclingmag"}; bicyclingmagHighly Influential: "New Sitting In blog by Bill Strickland (@TrueBS): Celebrate beauty & win a Giro-themed Lazer helmet: http://bit.ly/acUj7Z " 2 hours ago retweet Topsy.Data.Twitter.User['truebs'] = {"photo":"http://a1.twimg.com/profile_images/756756016/tourmalet_normal.jpg","url":"http://twitter.com/truebs","nick":"truebs"}; truebs: "Preview post of new Sitting In blog: Celebrate beauty & win a Giro-themed helmet: http://bit.ly/acUj7Z " 5 hours ago retweet Filter tweets [...]
I passed them as they went the other way and I recognized them right away by their kits. Five guys on a local team sponsored by the small throw back shop where I get my bike tended and hang out. I know them all and have ridden with them on a few shop rides. A retired Cat 1 who is 25 pounds overweight and can hurt riders half his age. A couple of Cat 2′s and a Cat 3 and a new guy riding to impress and make the team. I do a u and blow-up catching them. As I latch on, they all yell my name except for the new guy who doesn't know me that well. it's a spirited ride with lots of good natured jabs and taunts. It's an easy ride for them but I ride hard to hang on while pretending I'm riding easy. We hit a long climb and the attacks come and quickly I'm dropped and they disappear. I slug on depressed with my form, realizing i won't see them until I get to the Starbucks where they will already have their coffee and stare as I pull up by myself knowing that they know that I can't hang. I do my best to ride at my max and 4 miles down the road, there they are, at a stop sign waiting. I brake to a stop and they clip in as the old guy says, we're turning here and we all ride together as if I had always been with them. As old as I am, it was one of the sweetest moments – I was part of the group, I belonged.
Dan was a mutt. An interesting 50lb hybrid that must have been a combination of every shedding dog known to man. Hated squirrels and cats (big squirrels), one heck of a fence jumper, and generally the kind of rogue that you just had to love. For 17 years he was my companion as I criss-crossed the country, and was there for all of the highs and lows. He was my puppy pal.
Over the last year a tumor had been growing on his hip, eventually locking the leg up so that walking was increasingly difficult. Surgery was considered and discarded, as putting a dog that old under is not a good idea. I carried him upstairs every night so he could be with his family, but I could see the writing on the wall. He started licking the tumor raw a couple weeks ago, perhaps venting his frustration. On Monday my wife called me at work, telling me that the tumor was gushing blood and she was holding a compress trying to stop the flow. I flew home on my bike, and I found that he had chewed on the tumor, losing a lot of blood in the process. We took him to the vet, and I knew it was time to say goodbye. He went peacefully, and I was there until the end. I told him to go get them squirrels.
Last Wednesday was a time trial, the same one I use to measure my progress each season. I stuck his tag under my glove and we went for a ride. I wish I could say the stars aligned and I won the whole thing. I didn't even make the podium in my class. I did achieve a personal best by a decent margin, I had nothing left at the finish, and I think Dan would have liked that.
[...] Grazie | Sitting In bicycling.com/blogs/sittingin/2010/06/01/grazie/?cm_mmc=RSS-_-bicrsshome-_-NA-_-NA – view page – cached by Bill Strickland It happens not often but sometimes—or maybe only rarely—but it happens enough that we know it is a real byproduct of cycling: Tweets about this link Topsy.Data.Twitter.User['ridmybik'] = {"photo":"http://a3.twimg.com/profile_images/581597817/avatar_bike_normal.jpeg","url":"http://twitter.com/ridmybik","nick":"ridmybik"}; ridmybik: "Sitting In: Grazie: http://bit.ly/90htHG (bicycling.com) " 3 hours ago retweet Topsy.Data.Twitter.User['rideonenine'] = {"photo":"http://a3.twimg.com/profile_images/576626089/R19_normal.gif","url":"http://twitter.com/rideonenine","nick":"rideonenine"}; rideonenine: "Sitting In: Grazie http://ow.ly/17A2ti " 6 hours ago retweet Filter tweets [...]
I'd been riding my mountain bike for about ten years before I heard of Lance and the Tour, but even after that, I didn't give a shit 'cause I loved riding my bike in the woods and on the rocks, and watching other people ride skinny-tired bikes seemed pretty pointless. However, when I got around to watching a grand tour, in '02 I guess it was, I was transformed, shaken, and freakin' amazed. Well, I was an instant Lance fanatic and a bike-racing crazy. I watched every race, read every magazine, and bought a computer just to watch more bike racing…I was hooked. Then came doping. At first I was annoyed; soon though I was devastated and disgusted, yet I still refused to believe that these guys who were my heroes–and how many fifty year olds still have heroes?–were all a bunch of fakes, cheaters, and liars. But each new revelation brought new disgust and anger. I must have vowed to quit following racing at least twenty times. After all, it takes a real investment in time and money to watch and follow racing: No shit, I have gained twenty pounds since I became a racing fan, twenty! Yet somehoe I persevered, though finally I came to accept that though he's never tested positive, Lance has probably doped along with EVERYBODY else. Yet he had been too smart, too slick, too good to get caught, so so what. Then Floyd. Again Floyd. Some freaking hick nobody who even as he made the most awesome comeback ride in TdF history did so in such a way that everyone, even the most naieve fools such as yours truly, knew he was juiced. Finally Floyd the Farmer, the bitter bozo, Floyd the Loser was gonna blow the lid off. But guess what? I barely knew what was happening because I was locked in a battle of the most epic scale being fought out by ten guys across the length and breadth of a magnificently beautiful Italia. Good God, thank you for such a race. Thank you for a renewed Basso, an always(?) clean Cadel, an absolutely inspired Arroyo, and a diabolical race organizer who knows how to set the table. I don't know what Senator Joe McBlow is going to uncover when he starts to dig. Maybe Lance finally has to pay the Devil, though I hope not. If Lance gets busted, cycling won't recover in the US, but then maybe I can get back out on the street and back out into the woods. In fact, I'm going now. Ciao.
The northeast part of the country was blanketed this past winter with snow at epic proportions. Southeastern Pennsylvania, my home turf, was especially hard hit with 70" of snow in less then a two week stretch. For us non-pioneering easterners that is about two years of snow. I began the long drudgery of miles on the trainer knowing I would be on it for at least the next month.
At work one morning my wife sent me a video clip of my son in the basement next to my bike. He had taken his bike, and placed the training wheels in his sneakers so the back tire was about an inch off the ground. He sat and spun as he watched the latest episode of Spongebob. That image got me to the spring thaw.
I had been struggling with drugs and alcohol going on 12 yrs. I went out on one of my club rides a day after having relapsed. I thought I wasn't going to be able to hang with the group as we were taking the tackling our hilly ride that day.
Around mile 13 something inside me broke and with grit and determination, possibly some self anger, I rose out of the saddle and attacked the hills. My body screamed in protest, my stomach wanted to heave and my mind screamed for more. I danced on the pedals past the fields and the cows. I crested the hill section with a smile on my face.
I didn't finish first in the group that day, I didn't finish last either. I do though as I continue to ride with sobriety remember the look on the cows face as I screamed my way past him while climbing up that last hill.
It was at the end of an MS 150. For the last 100 yards of the course both sides were lined not with tifosi but with walkers, wheelchairs and people whose canes were propped against their legs so they could clap for me, one of hundreds of people to ride down that route on that day. My thoughts through the last few miles had been of myself, of my achievements. It was my first year on the bike and I'd ridden off nearly 100 lbs. I grew faster and stronger every month. I exceeded every goal I set. I impressed myself.
Then I rode down that street. That morning at the start/finish line I'd oohed and ahhhed along with others at the red sky and the sun rising over the Trent River. High on adrenaline and loving my good legs I took long turns at the front of our pace line and as I rotated off appreciated the comfortable sites of "down east" North Carolina, bird filled marshes, snake filled creeks, flat, flat, flat farmland and small churches every other mile. It was good to be alive. It was.
Then I rode down that street. Not a racer, I'd never ridden by a crowd watching me, much less clapping, cheering, shaking cowbells. Yes the Zoncolan was epic. I'll always admire Cadel Evans for wiping off the Rainbow Jersey before he crossed the finish line after he plowed through the strada bianca. Every rider who finished the 2010 Giro is worthy of respect for the way he rode his bicycle.
But as I rode down that street, I was humbled in a way I've never been humbled. Don't clap for me for doing what it is I love to do. Look in the mirror every morning and clap for yourself for doing what it is you have to do. You are beautiful. Me and Cadel Evans, we just ride bicycles.
Please note that this tale is told with hindsight and a little bit more writing experience than I would have had back then. Its true. If you want to drop me a line and have a look at the photo's of this bike, please feel free to do so. If you happen to pass through Celbridge in Ireland, drop me a line and I'll take you on a spin around my local roads. Read on and let me know what you think.
It was not long after I had decided to become a bicycle racer like my cousin at the age of 14, that I realised what this beautiful sport was really all about.
I was, and some say still am, a disaffected youth. I was socially awkward, tall and gangly, red haired and fair skinned. I was not an athlete of any measure.
I worked through the summer months in an furniture making business. I made tea, swept floor, carried woood and helped assemble and install the pieces made. It was tough work, not well paid, but the truth was nothing was going to stop me buying my own real racing bike.
It was a Mercian frame, fancy lugs with detail work, steel (Reynolds 531Competition), Campagnolo groupset, Mavic GP4 tubular wheels and it would be mine all mine.
I used to ride to work, all of 7 miles there and 7 miles back. I did this on a boneshaker that had been handed down from my cousin. It rattled along and when you went up hill, well lets just say it didn't help much.
On my way home, I would pass by the shop. If it was open I would slide in, run my hands over the bike, heft it and make sure the brakes still worked. On the road home visions of me dancing up the slopes of Mont Ventoux swam in my head.
Three weeks, two weeks, one week left of pushing a broom and sanding wood stood between me and the prize. Five days, four, three, two and there I was holding my last paycheck. Outside the door, a lump in my throat and the vision about to become real.
No sliding this time. I walked in past my dream and up to the counter. I had imagined the exchange would go along the lines of the knidly bike shop owner smiling at me as I nervously stuttered out my dream.
The bubble was soon burst when the man decided that I was taking the mick. There was no way I could afford it and I certainly did not look like I could handle it. I felt a tremble go through me as my vision swam away. I stammered out the same request and this time got a response from a different quarter.
Standing behind this guy was a young god. He had the shiny look of someone who spent all of his spare time honing his body on the bicycle of life. He didn't laugh, didn't retort, didn't suggest I wasn't worthy. He just looked me in the eye.
It turned out it was his bike. Not a show bike, but his race bike. He was a Ras Tailteann rider. A giant of the Irish roads. His manner said he was very much his own man and that he could take the measure of any other man.
He asked me to wait as he changed and came back out with two mugs of tea. We sat down and he quizzed me over my family connections, cycling experience and especially my summer work. We sat and chatted about this and that and he finally stood up.
I followed him over to the bike that was not to be mine. The red paint had not dulled, the chrome had not dimmed and the beautiful lug work still made the frame stand out.
He took the bike from its mount and with a sad smile passed it over to me. Again the brakes worked fine, it all felt fine.
£400 was the opening shot. He parried with a shake of the head, hand resting on the bars and gently pulling the bike towards him. £450, £500, shake, shake. He smoothly turned the bike and reversed it into the stand again.
Again I followed him as he walked back into the darkness of the shop. He reached up and unhooked a bike from the rack. It wasn't my dream, but it beat the shaker. This was pushed into my hands and I was invited to take a lap around the square.
A few tweaks, saddle up, forward, bars tipped down, wider toe clips and I was setup. I wanted the Mercian so badly, but it wasn't to be right now.
Now came the busines part. How much? A shake of the head. No really how much? The reply floored me. I was to return to the shop to meet up with the club on a regular basis, races would follow as I progressed. If I settled in and I really wanted into the whole racing thing, we would talk Mercian.
I served my apprenticeship under the tutelage of this wonderful man. I didn't light the world up with my brilliance. I loved my sport and pushed and pulled as hard as I could. I hated hills, but loved the criteriums. Sixteen long months later, with a bit more confidence I broached the Mercian subject.
That day saw me ride off on my dream bike. I still have it, 28 years later. The red has been and gone, a beautiful Raliegh Team Replica color scheme followed it. This was later followed by a deep, dark maroon color and finally its last suit of clothes was a burnt orange, with the original decals restored and the lug work touched up with Gold paint.
It hangs in my home and is a talking point that never fails. My other bikes are stored outside, and they will never be sold either. But this one, is special. It was my dream and I got to live it.
It must have been the second or third night of Race Across America. It was the first time anyone on our team had competed in the event and I'm pretty sure none of us were quite prepared for what we would go through.
You ride so hard that you can't eat anymore. But if you don't eat you can't go on, so you force yourself to choke down another power bar, or you start pouring a jar of honey straight into your mouth. We all reached our breaking point on that 3,000-mile stretch.
But on that second or third night we got to ride through Monument Valley, with a full moon overhead. And for some reason we were the only team that installed a PA system on the tops of our follow vehicles, which hooked up to our iPods. Slayer. Monument Valley. Middle of the night. Full moon.
My interest in bicycles started as a fad. I had recently relocated from one of the car-tropolises to the Pacific Northwest, the thriving heart of bicycle-dom in America. It was hardly the only place to ride, but it was what many might call the "coolest" place to ride. I went through some urban bikes, racing around town and gliding through warm nights. But the fad wore off eventually. I stopped caring about the "cool" or "hot" urban scene that drew me into it. I started watching footage of 'cross racing, vintage Tour cuts on cobble-stone, and rough scenes from the backcountry of Europe. It was so gritty, it was so tough and trying and torturous. It was cycling as I had never imagined. So as the fad faded my obsession grew. I obtained a 'cross bike and I started to "train." I should be clear though, I've never been an athlete. I wasn't 6′ with 150lbs, setting on my next athletic adventure. I'm a grizzly bear of a man, and have the broken bikes to prove it. So I started riding out more, and to more remote locations, looking for better distance and climbs. But before I could even find my bearings the season to race was here. I could barely re-mount my bike, but I knew that I just had to get in there. I entered my first 'cross race and for the hour before my heart sat pumping in the middle of my throat, almost gagging me with anxiety. The few minutes before, shoulder-to-shoulder with my fellow riders in the gate, I think I stopped breathing altogether. But then it happened…all hell broke loose, and a couple dozen maniacs were set wild in the mud, dirt, and gravel. I quickly fell to the back, I had no idea what was happening, it was no confusing and disorienting, people hammering forwards in the inches of mud just barely scraping by me. But before I lost much ground, my inner 'cross animal cranked up, and my legs pushed harder than they ever had. I tore through the mud and the gravel, I slide across the dirt without stopping, I climbed until my lungs felt like they were going to explode out of my chest, and I flew into my saddle after the barriers. It was poetry; gritty, dirty, nasty, torturous poetry, and I loved every damn second. I still do. And now I wait…I wait for the next 45 minutes.
I glanced up at the cross street stop light to watch it turn yellow then red. I close my eyes everytime to hear nothing but the orchestarted clicking of the packs cleats to peddles. Man, I love that sound.
I was laying in bed last night thinking about reading this post last night and what I could write about. It occured to me that I started watching the GIRO this year with what has become typical trepidation. I have become so used to watching my "heros" turn out to be frauds that I have a hard time actually trusting any rider, or actually seeing the purety of the sport at this level. Last year watching Diluca duel with Menchov, while entertaining, was also like watching the proverbial lemmings commit. Here was Diluca, who was already a known cheat throwing these attacks down, over and over again. I was left with this sense of disillusionment while still trying to believe that it was possible. While never a fan of Diluca it was still surprsing to me that he was ignorant and selfish enough to dope and get caught.
The beauty for me of this GIRO was it was filled with constant changes to the GC, there were a variety of winners, not one person stood out with a superhuman performance, and I actually believed it. The drama was real drama, or so it cam across. I forgot about Diluca last year, Ricco the year before and trully appreciated the race and how it unfolded. Basso won on courage and determination, a focused goal and a strong team. He did not look super human and looked like he was suffering. The giro had it all this year and it was a beautifull race and I am not sure if the Tour can duplicate what it did for me.
Along a back country road I'm startled to see a great winged shape gliding across my path. Milky white against the early morning mist, it appears as a wraith, silently cruising the farmland for prey.
It takes me a minute to figure it out. An Owl. Majestic and compelling.
It banks and tracks me on the other side of the hedgerow. A slow pulse of the wings and it shifts gears. Ahead of me now I can see the torpedo body tapering up to its massive head. I'm rapt, never seen a thing like it.
The fields turn to woodland and it's gone.
But it's enough to turn a simple training ride into a memory.
What wonderful comments. I know the contest is over, but this blog reminded me of mine from yesterday, reflecting on two years of near-daily tracking of these tiny moments of beauty. Thanks for the post and the chance to comment–we are all in some seriously good company.
No more snow – all gone
waves lapping at the shoreline
starry starry night

subset: commoncrawl


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Lazy Days in Bellinter House
Meath, Ireland Bed & Breakfasts
Bellinter House is a country retreat with 34 bedrooms with all mod cons as well as Eden Restaurant, the Games Room, the Library, the Drawing Room and the Bathhouse with 6 treatment rooms, indoor infinity pool, sauna, steam room and outdoor hot tub....
Starting at 69 Euro Per Person
Newgrange Lodge
Meath, Ireland Bed & Breakfasts
Formerly an old farmhouse ,Newgrange Lodge is located in the heart of the Boyne Valley and overlooks the incredible world famous UNESCO site of Newgrange,Knowth & Dowth. Exit 9 off M1 Motorway, 30 mins from Dublin city and Airport. 1.5 hr to Belfast....
Great Discounted Rates! 49 Euro Per Night
Ash Cottage for historic,sporting or shopping.
Meath, Ireland Bed & Breakfasts
We are a family run b+b in the beautiful and historic county Meath,Ireland.The rooms are ensuite,with power showers and comfortable beds. Close to the town of Navan,with restaurants,pubs,hotels and shopping.A warm and friendly welcome awaits you....
35 Euro Per Night
The Yellow House B&B
Meath, Ireland Bed & Breakfasts
Set in a quiet location within a short walk to town centre. Plenty of off road parking. Ideal location to visit Boyne Valley Heritage sites. Free internet access. Antigues throughout house, Great variety for breakfast to suit all tastes. ...
70 Euro Per Night
Castle Arch Hotel
Meath, Ireland Hotels & Resorts
The Castle Arch Hotel nestled in the heart of the heritage town of Trim on the banks of the Majestic River Boyne. A Haven of tranquillity �" the perfect setting combining charm, sophistication and luxury. This Boutique style hotel filled with old wo...
Bru Na Pairce
Bantry, Ireland Bed & Breakfasts
'Brú na Pairc' Bed and Breakfast is situated about a five minute ramble from Bantry town where ample fine dinning can be enjoyed in Bantry Bays wonderful restaurants and bars. All rooms are ensuite....
Starting at 35 Euro Per Night
Ivy Rock House
Roundstone, Ireland Bed & Breakfasts
Ivy Rock House Bed and Breakfast accommodation Roundstone Galway has a panoramic setting overlooking the sea with a view of the Twelve Bens mountains and just 2 km from the picturesque village of Roundstone....
Affordable Rates from 60 Euro Per Night
Breffni Arms Hotel
Cavan, Ireland Hotels & Resorts
Breffni arms Hotel, Swimming Pool and Leisure Centre, excellent cuisine, all rooms en suite,beautiful scenery, excellent golfing and fishing, walking etc...
Grennans Country House & Cottages
North Offaly, Ireland Hotels & Resorts
Grennan's Country House is a luxurious 4 star country guest house and self caterings set in the heart of Ireland, just 7-8 minutes north-west of Tullamore. Here you can relax and unwind in a totally stress-free environment in the countryside...
Rates from 25 Euro Per Person
Lough Rynn Castle
Leitrim, Ireland Hotels & Resorts
One of Irelands most luxurious Castle Hotels, the ancestral home of the Clements family and the legendary Lord Leitrim. The entire estate comprises over 300 acres of an Ireland that is idyllic, rich in history and charmed with natural beauty ...
99 Euro Per Night
Avon Ri Lakeshore Resort
Avon Ri, Ireland Hotels & Resorts
Whether you're planning a corporate team building event or a family holiday in Ireland, Avon Rí offers an unforgettable experience-combining magnificent luxury self-catering accommodation,an excellent restaurant and café bar,leisure &adventure ce...
Starting at 120 Euro Per Night
Downhill House Hotel & Eagles Leisure Club
Ballina, Ireland Hotels & Resorts
This leading Mayo hotel is recognised as one of Ireland's longest established Family run three star Ballina Hotels and a member of the Select Hotels group of Ireland....
Discounts & Specials from 30 Euro Per Night/Pers
Hodson Bay Hotel
Westmeath, Ireland Hotels & Resorts
Hodson Bay Hotel & Resort is stunningly situated on the tranquil shores of Lough Ree. The hotel's unique location allows you to enjoy the scenic Irish countryside and is only five minutes from Athlone town centre....
Rates from 79 Euro Per Night
Ireland Touring
Abbey, Ireland Hotels & Resorts
Journey Through Ireland is a tour operator with over 35 years of creating dream holidays to Ireland and Scotland. We can organize a self-drive tour or Chauffeur driven tour for you and provide you with a customized itinerary to suit your interests....
Affordable Rates from US $65 Per Night
Lynham's Hotel Laragh
County Wicklow, Ireland Hotels & Resorts
Lynham's Hotel is situated in the heart of the Wicklow Mountain National Park in the village of Laragh, 1 km from the 6th century Monastic city of Glendalough. Lynham's is the ideal location for exploring the most attractive of Ireland's Nation...
Rates from 99 Euro Per Night
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12 Great Memorial Day Getaways
We've rounded up 12 convenient Memorial Day escapes from coast to coast to ensure that you spend more time enjoying your blues festival (or pool party) than you do deciding where to go.
Thinking about taking a break for Memorial Day? Now is the time to start planning. To point you in the right direction, we looked for celebrations across America that offered something special in honor of the Memorial Day holiday, be it a unique patriotic tribute, a celeb-worthy pool party, an epic blues festival, or a vineyard tour. But reading about a party that's taking place miles and miles from home is frustrating, not fun. That's why we highlighted places that are easily accessible no matter where you are in the U.S. (all of the cities called out under "easy getaway" are within either a 1.5-hour flight or four-hour drive from the featured destination). Consider this your guide to three-day weekend bliss.
Palm Springs, Calif.: For guaranteed summer weather
While most beach seasons are just beginning, Memorial Day marks the end of bearable temps in the desert, so hotels and operators are running specials for the holiday. Though other parts of California will be in the midst of "May Gray" and "June Gloom," Palm Springs still has nonstop sunshine—plus dozens of vintage shops, acclaimed restaurants such as Copley's on Palm Canyon (where celebrity chef Andrew Copley whips up So Cal comfort food like lobster pot pie) and an enduring love for all things mid-century (its hotels and private homes offer some of the best examples of 1950s modern architecture in the country). It also makes a great base camp for exploring the striking desert landscape of Joshua Tree National Park through hikes, mountain biking, or rock climbing—don't miss a scenic ride on the Palm Springs Aerial Tramway, one of Budget Travel's most beautiful cable cars in the world.
WHERE TO STAY Book one of the 157 pet-friendly rooms, with pool or mountain views and complimentary use of the hotel's desert cruiser bicycles, two pools, hot tub, cabana beds, BBQ area, and fire pit, at The Curve Palm Springs. From $129 per night. Call and mention "Budget Travel" for 20 percent off bookings over the weekend.
EASY GETAWAY FROM Los Angeles; San Francisco; Phoenix; Las Vegas.
Washington, D.C.: For patriotism, pomp, and circumstance
As you might guess, Washington D.C. is the most patriotic place to celebrate the holiday, with a parade and plenty of pomp and circumstance taking place during special military ceremonies. The Thursday before Memorial Day, soldiers at Arlington National Cemetery put flags before each gravestone, while a wreath-laying ceremony happens on Memorial Day at the Tomb of the Unknowns accompanied by performances from the U.S. Army Band. Men in uniform also march in the National Memorial Day Parade along the National Mall at 2 p.m. Don't miss the National Memorial Day Concert Sunday on the West Lawn of the U.S. Capitol from 8 p.m. to 9:30 p.m.
WHERE TO STAY Kimpton Hotels is running a Memorial Day weekend special at two of its hip properties—check in Thursday or Friday and you'll save 20 percent on two-night stays and 30 percent on three-three night stays between May 23rd and 28th. From $125 a night at the Monaco Baltimore and from $143 a night at the Lorien Hotel & Spa in Alexandria.
EASY GETAWAY FROM Baltimore; Boston; Charleston, S.C.; Columbus, Ohio; Hartford, CT; Louisville, Ky.; Nashville; New York City; Providence.
Las Vegas: For only-in-Las-Vegas-style parties by the pool
Memorial Day weekend in Las Vegas is one of the busiest times of the year, along with New Year's Eve. Parties held around the resorts' elaborate pools are the big event, and become daylight nightclubs with DJs, drink carts, bottle service, cabanas, and more. To get in on the action, grab a chaise at the Venus Pool Club at Caesars Palace—ladies always get in free, while admission is free for men Monday thru Thursday, with reduced rates before 2 p.m. Friday thru Sunday. The Tropicana Las Vegas opened its Bagatelle Beach & Nightclub last Memorial Day weekend, featuring Mediterranean food and comfy daybeds to lounge in by day, with poolside dining and a new nightclub by night—admission is $30 for men, $20 for women, and Nevada residents get in free with a valid ID. The XS Nightclub at the Wynn Las Vegas & Encore Resort will host DJ Afrojack Saturday night and David Guetta on Sunday night among other electronica superstars over the weekend—tickets can be purchased ahead of time starting at $55 for men and $25 for the ladies.
WHERE TO STAY The Orleans Hotel & Casino is just off the main drag and offers free shuttle service to and from the Strip every 30-45 minutes between 9 a.m. and 12:30 a.m. The hotel offers its own casino, comedy club, cabaret lounge, Irish pub, movie theater, bowling alley, as well as playgrounds and arcades for the kiddies. From $115 per night over Memorial Day weekend.
EASY GETAWAY FROM Los Angeles; San Francisco.
Budget Travel Real Deals
From $2,399
From $139
New York, Casino Package
From $2,164
From $1,399
Deal Alert!
From $1,155
From $62
From $1,525


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Fun Facts and Statistics
Statistics out of all 251 people named Dale Winter
Income Average
Average Age
Phone, Email, & Address
News and Updates
Interesting Facts about Dale Winter
Meaning of Last Name
Winter is a surname, and may refer to the following people: Women: * John Strange Winter, pen-name of Henrietta Eliza Vaughan Stannard (1856–1911), an English novelist * Julia Winter (born 1993), Swedish-British actress * Milady de Winter, fictional character in the novel The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas, père * Miriam Winter: ** Miriam Winter (born 1933), German Nazi Holocaust survivor ** Miriam Therese Winter (born 1938), Catholic theologian * Ophélie Kleerekoper-Winter (born 1974), French singer and actress Men: * Alexander Ross Winter (born 1965), British-American actor and director * Anthony William "Nick" Winter (1894–1955), Australian athlete * Aron Mohamed Winter (born 1967), Dutch footballer * Arthur Henry Winter (1844–1937), English priest and cricketer * Bill Winter (lawyer) (born 1964), American lawyer and politician * Clark Winter, banker * Donald C. Winter, US Secretary of the Navy * Douglas E. Winter (born 1950), American author and editor * Edgar Winter (born 1946), American musician * Edward Winter: ** Edward Winter (actor) (1937–2001), American actor, most well-known for his role on the television series M*A*S*H ** Edward Winter (British administrator) (1622–1686), English royal administrator in British India, who governed Madras in the 1660s ** Edward Winter (chess historian), British journalist and writer on chess * Eric Winter (born 1976), American actor * Geoffrey Winter, American musician * George D. Winter (1927–1981), British medical researcher * Gordon Arnaud Winter (1912–2003), Canadian politician * Greg Winter (fl. 2000s), British antibodies researcher * Henry Winter (born 1963), British journalist * Howie Winter (born 1929), American convicted criminal * James Winter: ** James Winter (1919–2006), American musician and composer ** James Spearman Winter (1845–1911), Canadian politician * Jan Willem de Winter (1750–1812), Dutch admiral * Jay M. Winter, Professor of History at Yale University, World War I specialist * John Winter: ** John Winter (athlete) (1924–2007), aka Jack Winter, Australian high jumping Plympic gold medalist ** John Winter (meteorologist) (1967–2007), American ** John Winter, pseudonym of Louis Krages, (1949–2001), German racing driver and businessman ** John Strange Winter, pen-name of Henrietta Eliza Vaughan Stannard (1856–1911), an English novelist ** John Dawson "Johnny" Winter III (born 1944), American blues guitarist and singer * Jonathan David Winter (born 1971), former backstroke swimmer from New Zealand * Kurt Winter (1946–1997), Canadian guitarist * Leon de Winter (born 1954), Dutch novelist * Martin Winter, Mayor of Doncaster, England * Michael Winter: ** Michael Winter (born 1955), Director of the Centre for Rural Research at the University of Exeter ** Michael Winter, Canadian novelist and short story writer * Paul Winter (born 1939), American musician * Peter Winter: ** Peter Winter (ca. 1754-1825), German dramatic composer ** Peter Winter (athlete), Australian decathlete * Ralph Winter: ** Ralph Winter, American film producer ** Ralph K. Winter, Jr. (born 1935), American judge * Ronnie Winter, lead singer of The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus * Solomon Winter (1778–1859), Hungarian philanthropist * Stefan Winter (b. 1968), German national ski mountaineering coach and alpine sports author * Terence Winter, Emmy Award winning American screenwriter and television producer * Terry Winter (1942–1998), Canadian religious leader * Morice Fredrick "Tex" Winter (born 1922), American basketball coach * Timothy J. Winter (born 1960, aka Shaykh Abdal Hakim Murad, British Islamic scholar * Trevor Winter (born 1974), American basketball player * Vincent Winter (1947–1998), Scottish child actor * William Winter: ** William Winter (Royal Navy officer) (died 1589), English Elizabethan admiral ** William Winter (1836–1917), American drama critic and author ** William Winter (1898–1955), British chess player ** William Forrest Winter (born 1923), Former Mississippi governor (1980–1984) * Zikmund Winter (1846–1912), Czech novelist and historian
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Starbase G-6Discuss2
36,872pages on
this wiki
this wiki
Starbase G-6 was a Federation starbase near the Sigma III system.
In early 2364, the USS Enterprise-D dropped off Deanna Troi at Starbase G-6 to take a shuttle to visit Betazed. (TNG: "Hide and Q")
External linkEdit
- Starbase G-6 at Memory Beta, the wiki for licensed Star Trek works


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